I read a very valuable essay on writing today from Hanif Kureishi [ hanifkureishi.substack.com ] in his essay “Adventures in the Teaching Trade” and I want to thank him for it. So many things struck a chord with me. I have been writing mostly about memories of my past and my small pleasures in the present. And of course, I am writing for a very small audience, but I want to write almost as an act of magic — in hopes of finding a way back to the civil society I met in experiencing great art.
Mr. Kureishi points out that I am practicing therapeutic writing and that is absolutely true. More than that, I suspect, it is a way of finding justification for my existence. As the promise and possibilities of youth give way to the shortening of our allotted time here, we hope to leave something of ourselves that might prove we existed once upon a time. Not all of us are like the poet Shelley’s Ozymandias, King of Kings, wanting for people to look on his works and despair. If I look in the mirror of truth, perhaps I want to guard against the “bullshit” mechanism.
How can we do that? Individually, we are like planets in a singular system. Each of us, in the orbit allotted to us, understands “our” universe; but the next “planet” before (or after us) exists in their “universe”. Predictably, should planets leave their orbits, the result will be chaos for themselves and others. Can individuals discover some “radio wave” that would allow for communication between ourselves and others, or are we doomed to circle alone or risk devastating planetary collisions. There is no safer communication than that found in the arts — be they graphic, literary, or other.
The reward for great art is its immortality, and that is hard won. Creators of works that are considered centuries after their works were birthed into the world, frequently got no reward during their lifetimes. In our modern milieu, we expect success to be gained only through public financial success. But I must ask, does that mean that monetary gain has completely replaced heart, and spirit, and humanity? Perhaps our real reward is only a gasp of recognition that comes from seeing our own experiences reflected in the senses of those who create from love.
wonderful!
Thank you for this contemplation. Memories and little joys are my writing territories as well.